


Condemned to Live

by Sleepless_Malice



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Gift Fic, M/M, Mutual Manipulation, Sexual Content, Thralldom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: Despite knowing what awaits him behind the iron gate of Angband, Fingolin refuses Melkor's stroke of mercy. If he cannot prevail in battle, perhaps there still is another way to save his people.





	Condemned to Live

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



He was a slave - unlike all others, gifted with privileges and fineries their master was usually quite reluctant to share, with a full belly and expensive fabric hanging from his shoulders. He was a slave no less. Perhaps not in his master's eyes but his position among the army of slaves was the lowest. He was a thrall, a doll that breathed and occasionally spluttered, and brought with it a smile to his master's face and Fingolfin knew well that he would long be dead if he had to dwell deep below in the fuming mines.

Cruelty of all sorts, murder, torture, and worst of all rape, were all too common among the Moringotto's servants. Just as common as Fingolfin's mouth on the Dark Lord's cock for that clearly was what the Moringotto liked best. Fingolfin had come to terms with the ashen taste that lingered for quite a while after Melkor had spent in his mouth; he had come to terms with an aching jaw and burning lips as well, perhaps all too easily. But then, Fingolfin had always had a thing for larger sizes. That, of all things, Fingolfin remembered; when all other memories were lost to this land of madness and horror.

Though they were not truly lost, Fingolfin had discovered. He had learned of it in a moment he had least expected it. The Moringotto bent all his slaves' memories into tools of his own will, yet the vestiges lingered on in his own spirit. Occasionally, when Moringotto's soul was partly unguarded in the midst of obscene pleasure, Fingolfin delved into his past.

And then he watched: both his own memories and the Moringotto's features, to learn what each and every expression truly meant. At first, Fingolfin had been beyond careful, afraid of getting caught in search of his past. Betrayal and boredom were what the Moringotto hated most of all. Maedhros's fate spoke volumes to it, but his trembling voice had said all the more. _'Sometimes, true kindness lies in death,'_ Fingolfin thought bitterly. He too had refused his nephew's desperate plea for death. His own decision had been a different one. Despite knowing from Maedhros’s vocal nightmares what horrors awaited him behind the iron gate, Fingolfin had refused the stroke of mercy. If he could not prevail in battle, he would save his people by another route. There were many secrets in Angband, secrets that could mean the difference between victory and extinction for the Eldar.

Soon enough, Fingolfin had thrown most of his caution to the wind because of how strangely enamored the Moringotto was with him. The Vala' lust burned brighter than the jewels upon his brows, and in his foolish desire, he was blind to many things. Fingolfin was granted liberties he had never imagined. He said and did things for which others were quite regularly hung. When he was absolutely certain, he began to snatch back his memories, one by one.

The Iron Crown sat upon the Moringotto’s brow, adorned with his brother's divine creations that gleamed like stars in the night. A light of hope, Fingolfin thought, riding Moringotto's cock right there in his iron throne with ador.

He was often summoned to the Grand Hall of late. While they had been alone in the beginning, now there were a hundred Orcish eyes glued to Fingolfin’s back. However,  there was one pair of eyes he actually felt. The eyes were like golden flames upon his skin, burning and hissing, and speaking of jealousy, hurt and furious betrayal. Mairon, the Moringotto's most deadly servant. Fingolfin liked it not and in his presence he did not dare to search the Vala's soul.

_'A slave I am for now. A thrall to your lust and your sick desire to display me so. The world changes, and so will my fate. I shall rise from the ashes, with knowledge you will wish you never gave to me. I will hunt you, and slay your minions with vigor, and fight until my very last breath._ _For Fëanáro. For Maitimo. For Elenwë. For all the others who have fallen into shadows. This I swear.'_

Fingolfin's thoughts of utter determination must have made themselves shown in the way he moved on top of the Vala as a guttural sound, quite satisfied, fled from the Moringotto's lips. It was clear that he was close to his peak.

"My lord," Fingolfin whispered then, smiling the perfectly mastered smile of his. "As much as I saviour to please you so...I thought that perhaps...you would like to indulge in some plays with ropes again? I remember quite fondly how much you enjoyed yourself." The honeyed words were nothing but strategic lies; the ropes were kept in the Vala's bedroom, the only place where privacy was granted, yet there was more to it: whispered praise never failed to speed up certain things.

"Be gone!" The Moringotto screamed, voice surprisingly unsteady, and hurried footsteps immediately were to be heard. Still, the burning gaze on Fingolfin's persisted. "All of you! And that includes you, dearest Mairon."

Fingolfin was pleased, at last they were alone. With the Moringotto so very close to climax, he was free to roam his memories of better days to his heart's content.  Fingolfin did exactly that with eyes closed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> BG's Blood Tears served as inspiration for the title: Welcome to my realm, we are both condemned to live.  
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader


End file.
